Somewhere between the second cup of coffee and the block you swore you would finish before lunch, a picture of Acadia found its way onto your phone. Granite headlands, a cove the color of a good batik, maples already thinking about October. You looked at it a beat longer than you meant to. We know, because we did too.
Here is why it surfaced. It is National Park Week, August 22 through 30, and on Tuesday, August 25 every national park that charges admission waives it for the day. That is the Park Service's 110th birthday, and the present runs the other direction: the gate is free, their gift, not ours. We are just the people pointing at the calendar.
The quilter's way to see a park
A park, to a quilter, is a color story that somebody else pieced first. The Grand Canyon is a strip set in rust and coral that goes on for a mile. Yellowstone is a medallion quilt with a hot-spring ring in the center and steam for sashing. Acadia is a coastline applique, ocean on the bias, with a border of fall leaves that no fabric line has ever matched.
That is the whole idea behind the Stitchin' In National Parks tees. Each park is rendered like a pieced landscape, the kind you would hang in the front hall if you could ever find the time to quilt it. The lettering underneath says "Stitchin' in" and then the park, which is both a claim and a plan.
Which park goes on first
The planners in our orbit play it this way. The park you have actually stood in gets the tee first, because proof you were there beats a fridge magnet and lasts longer than the sunburn. The park still on the list gets the tee second, because wearing a place is the fastest way to turn a someday trip into one with dates on it.
And if that picture was your first real look at Acadia? That counts. Every quilt started as a picture somebody could not stop looking at.
Five to start with
Acadia National Park. The coastline one. Forested ridges stepping down to a blue you will want to match at the shop, and a foreground of autumn maples. If that picture found you too, this is the tee that came with it.
Yellowstone National Park. The geyser steams in thread, the hot spring wears its rainbow rings, and a bison is grazing in the corner as if none of it is remarkable. It is remarkable.
Great Sand Dunes National Park and Preserve. Look close at the foreground. There are two spools of thread sitting in the sand. Nobody put them there by accident.
Glacier National Park. Snow peaks, a lake the color of a mint fat quarter, wildflowers along the road, and a bear who has clearly walked this way before and intends to again.
Grand Canyon National Park. Layered walls in every red and gold you own, with the river threading through the bottom like a single line of topstitching. The big one, for the quilter who likes a big project.
The rest of the map lives in the collection: Zion, Grand Teton, Joshua Tree, Mesa Verde, the Badlands, and on down the list. Your park is almost certainly there.
The overlook rule
A quilter we know picks her overlooks by one measure: is the bench wide enough for a lap quilt and a thermos. She has never once finished the block up there. She has never once regretted the bench. This is the correct way to visit a national park, and we will not be taking questions.
What happens now
Pick your park, or the one still on the list. Every tee is cut and printed when you order it, so it is on its way before you have settled on a campsite, and Stitch Circle Rewards count on every single one. If you are driving to a gate on the 25th, wear the park you are walking into. If you are driving nowhere, wear the park you are walking toward. Either way, the block can wait. It always does.
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Written by Chic Quilter. Thanks for reading.
